


Burning

by Iane_Casey



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: A fuckton of boatsex, Boatsex, But is it really the first time Dany's done it, Canon Compliant, Cunnilingus, Dany's on Fire, F/M, First Time Blow Jobs, Have I mentioned post-boatsex boatsex?, He's a thirsty wolf, I am useless at tags, Jon likes lapping at Dany, Jon unbraids Dany's hair, Jon's on Fire, Jonerys Secret Santa 2018, Just read the damn thing - it's basically porn, Missionary Position, They're both burning, They're both overwhelmed, sweet sweet torment, vanity sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 12:33:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17141840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iane_Casey/pseuds/Iane_Casey
Summary: The morning after they'd fallen into bed and whispered and moaned their desires into the dead of night and the salt of the sea, Jon and Dany lock themselves away from the rest of the world to... get to know one another more. Post Boatsex Boatsex homage.





	Burning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bendthekneejon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bendthekneejon/gifts).



> Merry, Smutty Christmas, Ana Dear! 
> 
> I tried to incorporate as much as your requests as I can, and I hope this makes Christmas extra special!
> 
> Shoutout to ATetheredMind for awesome beta services and Aliciutza for the moodboard! I love you ladies to the moon and back. 
> 
> Without further ado, I shall shower and contemplate my life choices as you enjoy this smutty piece.
> 
> Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to everyone!

In the dead of night, silence had always been Daenerys’ constant companion.

Last night hadn’t been any different, but the silence had graciously lent itself to the passion of their union, accentuating the sounds of their pleasure and that of their bodies joining.

It had been a while since she’d shared her bed with a lover. Only, this time, the King in the North was so much more. _Jon_ was so much more.

How did she begin to describe the way he’d crawled under her skin and wrapped himself around her heart? She couldn’t.

Overcome, she was simply overcome.

Jon had knocked on her stateroom door, a king in all but birthright, coming to take what he wanted. Even in that action he had not been like other men; he’d boldly sought her out, made his _desire_ known. And while she’d welcomed him, in his eyes swam a lingering uncertainty. It had not been lost on her and it had hurt to see him suffer so, but desire had won over his fears, and she’d been all too happy to be swept off of her feet and pressed against the door he’d just closed.

Gazing into the fire dancing off of the nearest candle’s wick, she smiled. She was sore in all the right places, a dull throb between her legs from having been plundered by the man whose arm possessively draped under the swell of her breasts.

Jon was snoring lightly against the back of her head, his deep, even breathing tickling her skin but she did not mind, focusing instead on collecting her thoughts and recounting how they had reached this point, and what she’d lost along the way.

The moment her mind drifted to Viserion, the gentlest of her sons, she turned in his arms and burrowed herself in the space between the pillow and his stubbled cheek, drowning herself in the scent and warmth of him and the scrape of his wiry beard in hopes of washing out the horrible memories.

“Daenerys?” A hand slowly ran up and down her spine as he roused, the rasp of his voice rough with sleep but alluring to her ears, the pads of his fingers _grounding_. The press of her lips to his neck was her only response.

She let him slip his other arm beneath her to join the other around her form. He rolled onto his back, drawing her to rest over him.

“What’s wrong?”

Sadly, she smiled against his skin, moved by his concern.

“Dany,” she breathed, lifting her head up from his scarred breast to look into dark, bleary eyes still adjusting to the dimly lit cabin. When his brows furrowed, she tenderly eased the crease with the pad of her forefinger, still smiling as she clarified. “Call me Dany.”

It was a sight to behold, the emotions that visibly bloomed on his comely features upon realisation; confusion, wonder, and such warmth emanating from his onyx gaze.

“Dany.”

The way her name rolled off of his tongue in his sleepy northern burr stirred her.

“Again.”

Tenderly, he smiled at her and, running a thumb from her bottom lip to her chin, did as she asked.

“Dany.”

Closing her eyes, Daenerys basked in the comfort his presence and the sound of his voice brought her weary heart. She lowered her head so that she could press her ear above his breast and listen to his heart beat steadily, strongly, the way she had wanted to when he had laid abed on the boat after returning to her at Eastwatch.

His hands were rough, the skin thickened by the sword he’d mastered and his youth’s labours, but the gentleness in his touch was a most welcome sensation. She had long forgotten how it felt like to be taken care of, to simply be held. _Loved_ , dare she hope.

Love.

Had she known it, felt it truly? She was not certain. To an extent, as a mother growing her lost son in her belly, maybe. As a mother to her dragons, for certain. A true love, however, maybe not, if what she’d come to feel for Jon was any measure.

She hadn’t even _liked_ Jon that fated day he’d walked into her throne room at Dragonstone, had been frustrated at his steadfast determination to deny her his fealty. But now, she hadn’t even really wanted him to bend the knee anymore even though he has. Rather, she would very much want for him to stand by her side, should they discuss a more favourable and binding cementing of their alliance. If he would have her.

If she were to marry him… she let her thoughts trail off.

She could never bear him sons or daughters.

Her heart nearly burst at the thought and the hurt it brought forth. She had thought she’d long accepted that bitter fate, of being barren, but what man did not want sons? Or daughters?

What man would want a barren woman, queen though she was?

It wasn’t an appropriate question at the moment.

Placing a hand against his pectoral instead, she traced the outline of his nipple and let the rhythm of his heart erase her pain and her lingering questions and lull her slowly into rest.

She didn’t know how long they lay like that, but it must have been quite some time, for when she stole a glance at him, he had already drifted back to sleep, his mouth slightly ajar.

Shaking her head fondly, she lay back down, draped over his solid form like the fur draped over her, and joined him in a peaceful slumber.

* * *

It was difficult to part from the warm and comforting weight of Dany on him, but Jon had to extricate himself from her when his bladder demanded relief.

Not wanting to risk running into someone on his way out and back to her stateroom, he resorted to the chamber pot in the cabin. When he was done, he eased himself back into her bed, his chest swelling when she almost instinctively sought his warmth, long eyelashes feathering over his skin. But Gods, she was beautiful, and her heart was too good for the world she sought to fix.

Burying his nose in the tangled mess of her hair, he gloried at the alabaster skin explored and worshipped by his mouth, hands, and tongue just last night. His cock jerked.

He'd want nothing more than to stay in bed with her, to get to know the woman behind this queen more than he already did. A longing to learn how he could please her, so she may never want for someone else, budded within him. He would very much like to make her a happy woman if she would only teach him how to make her so.

He was not the best with women, had never been interested in courting anyone. The thought reminded him of Robb. His brother would have given him advice.

 _Robb…_ It would never not hurt and enrage him, the memory of how his brother was butchered by those sworn to serve him, whose loyalty was supposed to be unwavering. All for the promise of more power.

His chest tightened, and he had to rein in the rage that darkened his vision, the only thing tethering him to reason the soft skin his fingers freely roamed.

Men so honourable and kind, a babe and its mother stabbed and left to bleed to death, a dutiful mother forced to watch as their own bannermen slit their king’s throat, and then hers, before mounting the head of his direwolf onto his severed body, to be paraded like a trophy. As though what they’d done had not been the treasonous massacre and dishonour it was. Many a people he’d known, loyal to House Stark, gone too soon, sentenced to death by ambitious fools who themselves had ended up dead anyway.

A vicious cycle for the innocent and truly noble.

A wheel that had only ever kept turning and turning and turning, trampling on those who sought only to live and lead humble lives.

Daener— _Dany_ stirred beside him, and he pressed his lips to the crown of her head, internally vowing to protect her from those who sought to see her fall and fail. The heart that beat within her chest was too good for the people she wished to save.

A barely perceptible hum left him at the sudden sensation of warm satiny skin trailing from his navel and up his chest, the sensation distracting him from his thoughts. Her thigh draped over his and he could feel the heat of her core, the dampness radiating from her making his mouth water and his body and soul want her again.

Blunted nails scratched at the skin south of his navel, threading their way down, and following the line of coarse black hair towards his cock. He bristled, the sensation muddling his mind and nearly blinding him with need.

When her hips gyrated, he growled lowly and dipped his head just as she'd tilted hers up to meet his mouth as if she’d foreseen his action. A fiery clash of lips and tongue and playful nips ensued, and he was lost in the heat and sensation and taste that was this wonderful and powerful woman. She moaned into his mouth, and he heartily swallowed the sound, dazed, as he pondered what he'd done right in all his damned life to have found her.

Parting for air, their lips were a hair’s breadth apart until she straddled his hips, offering up her body for him to gaze upon in its pale, naked splendour. Mesmerised by her lustrous skin and effortless majesty, his hands roamed every dip and curve within reach. From the patch of silver hair on her mound, to her creamy, supple thighs, to her voluptuous hips and her sides, he continued his expedition to uncover where she liked being touched and the pressure at which she moaned and keened and sighed, leaving no skin within his reach unexplored.

Her hips rolled and her back arched, the tips of her breasts budding into tight peaks in the cold air of the stateroom. The power of her thighs did not surprise him; she rode a dragon. The thought sent a jolt of lust throughout his being.

His throat dried up at the sight, unable to contain the stirring in his groin and the tug at his balls. Powerless to resist, one hand settled on her hip while the other slid up her torso to cup a breast.

Elated, Dany moaned at his touch and his gentle squeeze. He gave her other breast the same attention and her mouth fell open at the swipe of his thumb on her budded peak. Sliding his hand down to her hooded pearl, Jon watched in awe as her back straightened and her jaw slackened after a breathless gasp escaped her throat.

Their eyes met, her lilac gaze half-lidded as she ran her palms up and down his scarred torso. With a shift of her hips her folds parted to let her clit slide against his aching cock. Gripping the soft but firm flesh of her hips, he called out her name, drawing the last letter of it in a hiss as she wittingly passed herself over his weeping tip.

"No."

The word left her in a moan, panting quietly as she ceased all movement, small hands cupping his to stop him from urging her to resume.

The cessation of friction drew a frustrated groan from his lips, his body going rigid as his cock and his mind mourned her inactivity.

"Daen-"

Her frown tore at him, brain too addled by need and desire to process what she wanted, what she _needed_.

He'd do _anything_ , she only need ask.

"I asked you to call me Dany, Jon," she warbled, teasing him with a torturously slow roll of her hips that brushed her folds flush against his burgeoning cock. His jaw relaxed, and he swallowed, nodding his understanding, interlacing their fingers as she started moving again.

Gods help him, she was _dripping_ , the thick, rich essence wafting into his nostrils and giving him the reminder to lick her clean of it later. She had loved _that_ last night.

"Dany," he breathed, a silent plea for her to forgive him and end his misery.

His reward was the slick feel of her coating him with her wetness as she resumed rolling her hips against him.

Jon watched as she bit her lip to try and repress a shudder as she swayed back, their hands clasping tight as she let him help her maintain a dizzying rhythm.

 _Ethereal_ , he thought as his eyes indulged in her lovely features. Silver hair a mess, lips parted as she breathed through the sensations his hardened cock was bringing her clit, and a light sheen of sweat dewing where they were pressed together and at the underside of her breasts, yet she was still the most beautiful woman his eyes have ever seen.

She was beginning to quake as she continued moving, picking up speed. Moments later her movements became disjointed, stuttering, hips snapping here and there as though she was about to come, but she wasn't there yet.

Seeing the crease in her brow as her eyes closed and she focused on her pleasure while getting him harder at the same time, Jon unlaced their hands and guided her movement with one hand on a hip while the other snaked in between them to rub her vigorously.

"Jon!" Her breath left her in a pitched, breathless cry until her back arched again and she silently came undone above him, a vision of white, flushed skin, and silver hair.

_Perfection._

He swallowed at the thought of her cunt squeezing him again the way it had last night, and he craved it. Running his hands over her thighs, and then up her torso to knead her breasts, he gently eased her down from her climax.

Her cunt had gushed over the stem of his cock, the wetness letting her come off of her release with slow, gentle, fluid grazes, the action extracting small aftershocks he was all too happy to bear witness to.

Spent, she folded herself over him like a blanket, and Jon felt himself pulse against her warmth, his hips involuntarily jerking from the need to be within her sheath.

No sooner than she'd draped herself over him, kisses rained over his skin and, shifting on her knees, she backed up and kissed her way down the length of his body, stopping to playfully nip at the skin right above his cock.

"Dany," he stuttered, shaking his head though his heart leapt at the thought. Blood rushed to his cock as her breath feathered over his engorged length.

"You don't-"

She hushed him, an almost feral and utterly arousing look in her violet eyes. Holding his gaze, she licked him from root to tip, making sure her eyes were on him and his on her. She flattened her tongue over the fat head of his cock, making him fight hard to keep his eyes open as she repeated the action. From his vantage point even he could see liquid escaping his tip, the gleam of it almost afire from the candlelight.

Needing her to hold him firmer, grip him harder, he wrapped a hand around the one holding his cock captive and showed her the pressure he needed from her. Catching on, she repeated the action when he retracted his hand, and he gutturally moaned his approval.

A low growl rumbled in his chest when she stopped stroking him and took him into her mouth, knowing that she must have sampled her own tang. His eyes screwed shut when she moaned as though his cock and her juices were the best things she'd ever tasted.

"Dany." Powerless. He was powerless to the heat of her mouth and the grip of her hands, powerless to the dizzying pull and squeeze of her fingers on his balls.

Seemingly encouraged by his poorly stifled sounds of pleasure, she pulled back only to try and swallow him whole, the movement making him kiss a part of her he shouldn't have been able to reach. His legs and calves strained, muscles contracting as he grounded himself from grinding up and thrusting into her mouth as his body yearned to do so.

One of his hands gripped lightly at her head while the other desperately fisted the furs on the bed, unsure of how to both encourage and discourage her to proceed and unsure if he could hold off spilling in her mouth. Or if he would be able to recover quick enough so he may spill inside her again.

Nails scratched the space above his cock, stimulating the hairs and his skin there, and he groaned, watching as her jaw flexed and she forced herself to try and swallow him whole once more, causing him to moan in unbridled bliss. The sounds he made reverberated throughout his entire being and into the mouth that cradled his throbbing girth. She hummed, and the vibration against his sensitive flesh made his eyes roll to the back of his head. It wouldn’t take longer for him to explode, she must have known that.

A small, warm hand wrapped around him when he was released from her mouth with a wet, popping sound, and he fisted the furs again at the sudden suction of her mouth around his balls. Alternating from one to the other, she did not give him any reprieve for recovery.

Up and down, her hand stroked while her tongue and mouth sucked hard and laved at his balls, her movement shifting from a steady rhythm to a faster pace that was bringing him closer and closer to the edge.

It started at the base of his spine, that tingling, maddening feeling; the strong need to release. When she took him back into her mouth, he knew for certain he was not going to last any longer.

"Dany," he warned, voice gruff and strained, trying to move her up, but the woman merely grinned deviously around his thickness. A violent violet storm, her eyes were, pupils blown wide as though this was bringing her just as much pleasure as it brought him. In one swift slide, she forced herself to take more of him— _all_ of him— forced herself farther enough to hit the back of her throat again.

Her eyes watered, but the very moment she repeated the action, his eyes screwed shut, mind numbing as his blood and the beat of his heart drummed through his ears, and all he could feel was the molten clutch of her mouth as he spent his seed in the warmth of her throat.

She sucked him dry, her cheeks hollowing out, and tongue tickling the underside of his cock as she drank all he could give.

No one had ever done that for him, and he felt as though he were floating on a cloud, all his worries unable to touch him after what she’d just done.

Satisfied with her work, she let him slip out of her mouth, his cock still half-hard.

Small pecks from warm lips dotted his pelvis and his torso as she crawled her way back up to him. She was being playful, Jon thought, shifting when she tongued his nipple and tugged at it when it puckered for her. She gave the other the same attention when he moaned.

When their lips met again, he was astonished at the taste of his issue on her tongue, her moan letting him know just how much she had enjoyed what she’d done.

Dany winced at a sudden tug of his fingers on her hair and he frowned. Her hair was still in the damned bun, he realised.

“Let’s unburden you, my queen,” he rasped, still recovering from her ministrations.

“It can wait,” she declined, but Jon sat up and swung his legs off of the bed. When he stood, his limbs still felt like liquid, but he quietly took both her hands and led her to the vanity, so she could sit down, and they could unburden her of pins and braids.

“No,” Jon stated firmly, quietly. “It cannot.”

* * *

“I want to fuck you with your hair down, Dany,” Jon reasoned, his eyes a dark temptation she could not have refused if her life depended on it.

Arousal set her aflame, and she cursed the elaborate architecture of her hair for it was preventing her from pinning him to the bed and fucking him senseless just for uttering those words.

The reflection of his perfect form on the looking glass was distracting, and the heat of him behind her only served to prepare her for him later when they were done. She could smell herself, her cunt swollen and primed for him to plow into. She could still taste the remnants of his salty sweet seed on her tongue. She shivered.

“Are you cold?” His voice, throaty and gruff but caring, made her shiver once more.

Shaking her head, she smiled softly at him. “No.”

Thankfully, he didn’t press.

Together they went about unpinning and unravelling her hair, their eyes not parting for too long. In no time she felt the insistent prod of his length against her back, making her close her eyes momentarily. Oh, how she wanted him inside her, for him to wreck her, rent her apart, as he had done last night. She wanted to feel him come within her depths once more. Her cunt fluttered and she almost moaned out loud.

“What are you thinking?” An almost cat-like smile kissed her lips, and she opened her eyes to find him looking at her as though he could eat her whole.

“I was thinking about how much I need you inside me,” she whispered enticingly, biting her lower lip to tease him just the slightest bit more.

His eyes were black pools of molten onyx gleaming with desire. For one brief moment, she saw him as the wolf of the Stark sigil, ready to pounce and devour her. The White Wolf, they called him.

“What else do you want, Dany?”

Setting down the last of her pins on the vanity, his hands busied themselves with untangling her hair, brushing it with his fingers and massaging her scalp in turn.

“I want your hair down as well, Jon Snow.” She turned, reluctantly ending his relaxing massage and tending of her hair, which now fell like a silver waterfall over her shoulders and breasts.

Eyeing him from his feet to his cock, to his scarred and perfectly sculpted torso to his beautifully bearded face, she stood. She watched him shift on his feet, clearly unused to such appraisal and attention, making her grin.

One hand lifted to pull on the tie at the back of his head and she marvelled at the softness of his curls.

Pleased, she pulled his head down and kissed him, her tongue almost immediately seeking his for a dance they were slowly beginning to become attuned to. She grunted when he tugged at her hair lightly, angling her neck for his mouth to latch onto and suck at. His hands were instantly around her, touching anything and everything it could reach. She yelped when he suddenly ran both from her back down to her arse, and then lifted her atop the vanity.

Pushing aside the bench, he stepped in between her legs and she didn’t know how it was possible for her to be more aroused than she already was at the power he’s suddenly assumed.

Putting her hands to good use her blunted nails scratched down his sides, and then pulled him flush against her, his cock jutting between her folds and making her moan.

“What else do you want, Dany?” Jon asked her, his hands sampling the weight of her breasts and teasing the peaks with his thumbs before snaking his hands to her thighs and hooking his hands at the bend of her knees. With a forward thrust his length parted her slit but only to brush against her. She quivered, limbs melting from the heat of her own need.

Bold, she found his hand and directed his fingers to her cunt, showing him just how to rub her the right way. The way that made her arch her back sharply, moan uninhibitedly, rake red scores down his back.

“What else, Dany?” He repeated the action, a thrust and a brush of his finger, and she bit her lip.

Looking at where they could be joined but still weren’t, she huffed. Tipping her head back she was met by nearly pitch-black eyes as he withdrew his hand and tucked her knee over the bend of his arm once more.

Drowning in his eyes headfirst, she moaned her response, breathlessly telling him, “You, Jon. I just want you inside me, now.”

She was nearly panting from the need to have him claim her, her voice almost desperate in her ears, but she didn’t care as long as he would just _move_.

“Say it again.” It was a heavy rush of breath and she shivered from the restraint evident in his voice. He drew back as she snaked one hand in between them and held him between warm, slender fingers. The feel of her touch brought his brow to rest over hers, groaning when she squeezed firmly.

Daenerys positioned him at her entrance, brushing the tip of him against her wetness and exhaling needily at the sensation. Drawing him closer, she wordlessly encouraged him to sink within her depths.

“I need _you_ ,” she breathed.

Satisfied with her words, Jon rolled his hips and, in one smooth thrust he parted her folds, and she was unable to stop the loud moan that left her lips from the sheer pleasure of it.

Jon huffed as he buried himself within her, the angle of her hips pulling him in deeper.

The vanity rocked beneath the combined weight of them and the strength of his thrusts, but neither cared as they sought completion. Dany slung her arms around his neck, her fingers toying and clawing at his hair and scalp as he pounded her against the solid wood. His face was buried in her neck and she moaned at the feel of his mouth marking her, her own teeth latching onto his shoulder when he hit the edge of her in a painful pleasure she prayed to feel again.

Quaking in his embrace her eyes watered when he hit the same spot, reaching a part of her she'd long forgotten made her blood roar and her limbs limp.

It was unbecoming, how she begged against the shell of his ear, coaxing him to take her harder, to claim her fully for she was his, and he was hers, now.

Another sharp inhalation of breath and she was fluttering around him, her cunt spasming violently around his cock. Eyes rolling into the back of her head, Daenerys clung to him with all her might as she came, keening breathlessly in the safety of his neck and shoulder, in the strength of his embrace. Tears filled her vision as he continued plunging in and out of her even as she shook in his arms, taking her higher and higher than she thought possible.

A warbled mess of strangled cries, his name fell from her lips again and again and again when he thumbed the slick and swollen bundle of nerves at the apex of her cunt, her body stilling completely as she surrendered herself to pleasure.

Her name was groaned into the space where her neck and shoulder met as his hips snapped back into the cradle of hers one last time as he joined her, spending his seed within her depths in heated bursts, his body trembling over her quaking self.

She shuddered deliciously, a moan leaving her lips, when he laved at her pulse, tasting sweat-slicked skin.

They were rocking gently, now, spasms still shaking her core once in a while as he lived within her still, softer now yet still twitching once in a while. His hands braced himself above the vanity whilst her loose limbs hung about his form, sated and limp.

Brimming with his issue and her own juices, the sensation was one she did not wish to part with just yet, so she anchored him to her for just a bit longer. She nuzzled the side of his face sweetly, slowly moving to seek his lips for a kiss that made her heart flutter. What was it about this man that made her so soft?

When they parted, he pulled away, strings of his seed making a mess in between her legs and his thighs as he slipped out. She quivered at the sensation and he smiled tenderly at her. Without a word he tucked his arm under her knees and pulled her to his chest, so he could carry her back to the bed.   

“I want you again,” she whispered as he set her down over the furs.

He sat down by her side, his hands mapping her body as he smiled at her reverently. Their eyes met.

“I don’t think I can just yet,” he excused, his voice soft and thoroughly apologetic, but his smile remained on his lips.

Understanding, Dany nodded, mirroring the hunger and need and softness in his gaze.

“Tell me,” he swallowed thickly, his hand stopping at the curve of her waist, eyes following the movement of his hand until he’d stopped, and met her eyes instead. A sweet fire burned behind them, jarring her with reignited need.

Patiently, she waited for him to continue, but a knock sounded at the door before he could.

Almost irritated, she glanced at the source of the offending sound, and asked who it was.

“It is Missandei, Your Grace.”

Sighing, she looked at Jon before sitting up. She let his shoulder catch her chin before she rubbed the side of her face against his.

“This is far from over,” she whispered fiercely against his ear before meeting his mouth in a brief kiss filled with promise. He nodded against her brow, watching her as she moved and got off the bed.

Dany could feel his eyes on her, and she wondered if he was able to see his seed escape her depths as she walked, naked, towards the stateroom’s door.

“Your Grace,” Missandei greeted when she opened it a crack.

“Missandei,” she smiled softly at her advisor and dearest friend. “We are not to be disturbed today,” she said, the smile still present though her tone left no room for questions. She hardly thought Missandei needed them, however. “The King in the North and I. Please let Ser Davos know as well.”

Her friend nodded in understanding.

“Would you like me to bring you and the king food and drink?”

Unable to resist, her smile widened, and her friend returned it, although almost looking sly.

“I would appreciate that greatly, my friend,” she thanked her, Missandei nodding before she closed the door.

When she turned, Jon was still looking at her wolfishly, but the softness remained. Briefly, she wondered how he managed it.

“Do you like what you see, Jon Snow?” she could not help but ask. There was a thrill in the way he looked at her that she had never felt from the others who had done the same. As a matter of fact, she’d always been used to other men’s awe and desire to dominate her. To _own_ her. It was in that where Jon was worlds different. He did not wish to _possess_ her. Neither did he seem to want to control her and those under her protection. No. He himself was not like other people.

“Aye. I don’t think I’ve had my fill of the sight of you, Dany,” he breathed, the awe in his voice evident, the yearning as thick and palpable as the accent that coated his words. “I am most certain I never will.”

He’d already had her twice that morning, had spilled inside her cunt and in her mouth, but she wanted to drown.

Unfaltering, their gaze never broke as she approached, slow and sultry. She watched him swallow thickly, admiring the movement of his throat as he did. She burned at the sight of him licking at his lips, which made her bite her own as she climbed on top of the bed and crawled towards him. The moment she settled into the cradle of his hips he turned them over, smirking against her lips when he claimed them for himself, quickly pushing his tongue into her mouth to tangle with hers.

A rush of air escaped her when his mouth cupped her chin, moving light kisses down to the base of her throat only to lick a slick, heated line up the length of her neck, and then kissed his way back down again until he reached the creamy top of a breast.

Joining the fray, his hand squeezed her unattended breast while his mouth enclosed on the other’s nipple, worrying it and teasing the sensitive bud with his tongue. Sucking at it, his cheeks hollowed out. Her mouth parted when he repeated the action, a moan leaving her, her fingers dancing across his head, clutching and releasing and scratching at his hair and scalp. He paid her other breast the same attention and she arched her back in encouragement.

The pull of his mouth on her breasts made her cunt throb with mounting need, longing to have him feast on her as he had last night.

Adept, he’d become at mapping her body, uncovering areas she’d long forgotten that never failed to set her on fire.

She inhaled when he moved lower, sampling the salt and tang of her body. When he reached the patch of silver hair covering her mound she arched, needing him closer, needing him _there_. Ready to accept anything he would generously give to tame the fire roaring through her veins and heating her blood.

“Dany,” he breathed into the molten flesh of her core before looking up to meet her half-lidded eyes. She shuddered deliciously, mewling at the sensation.

Eyes rolled to the back of her head when his fingers grazed the petals of her cunt, smearing her essence and the lingering remnants of his seed, dark eyes focused on her and the reactions his touch elicited.

_Attentive._

Stuttering on his name she tucked her bottom lip between her teeth, desperately grasping at furs while her other hand moved from caressing her own breast to cup the side of his face. Their eyes met, hazy from lust and need, consumed by the fire and bowled over by awe.

“What should I do next, my queen?” he rasped against the inside of her thigh, lips pressing there and wiry beard abrading the sensitive skin, causing her to shiver. “Tell me.”

Thrumming with the need that assaulted her senses, she inhaled deeply, her blunted nails scraping his stubbled face.

“What would _you_ like to do next, Jon?” Nearly heaving from the weight of his attentions, she was barely able to ask the question, wasn’t even able to breathe properly.

“You liked it when I kissed you here,” he touched her, fingers parting moist curtains of flesh, the rough skin of his gentle fingers tormenting her, remembering exactly how she’d taught him.

Licking at her bottom lip and biting down on it she nodded, breathing “Yes.”

Compliant, he gave her a good slow lick, her quaking pushing her up the bed and prompting him to wind his arms under and around her thighs to keep her in place. She cried out hoarsely at the wonderful prick of his beard against her petals, wet mouth and tongue sought a depth he’d not be able to reach without using his fingers, but deep enough to make colours flash behind her eyelids. She gasped at the lash of his tongue across her pearl, her grip tightening around his curls that she clutched and the furs beneath her palm.

One of his arms unwound from her thigh so his hand could aid his mouth, a slender finger splitting her open as he continued his merciless assault on her clit.

Too far gone, she shook uncontrollably at the introduction of another finger inside her, the pads of them rubbing in and out and against the front ridge of her cunt.  

Prying her eyes open she looked at him, watched him _enjoy_ her, his groans reverberating right into her oversensitized flesh.

Another lick, another thrust of his fingers, and she fell over the edge, coming hard and thrashing from the force of it.

He lapped up the juices that poured from her as she quivered in his arms, slowly easing her down with light pecks and caresses over and around her cunt. She shook at random intervals, her body still reeling, but she was limp, turning in his embrace when he crawled up her body to embrace her from behind.

Wordlessly, tenderly, she turned her head towards his, intoxicated by his own male scent of leather and pine and the evidence of her pleasure damp on his beard and drying on his lips. Their eyes met and her heart clenched as she soaked up the warmth and the strength of his emotions radiating from nearly pitch-black pupils.

Gently, he enveloped her lips with his own and kissed her languidly, breathing through his nose to not have to relinquish their connection. Her head rested on his arm, the fingers of that hand pulling her to his frame.

It was too sweet, how he handled her, the way he kissed her too intimate, and the corners of her eyes strained to hold in tears, prompting her to kiss him harder.

He pulled away then, resting his brow on her temple before pressing his lips there.

The nudge of his hardness against the cleft of her arse was difficult to ignore, and she purposely ground herself back into his pelvis until he slid in between her cheeks and prodded her heat.

A frustrated moan left her lips when a knock sounded at the door just as he’d entered her. He chuckled against her neck, nipping playfully before pulling away and pulling out.

“Would you like me to get that?” he grumbled against her neck.

Somewhat mollified she let out a breathless laugh at the picture he painted.

“If you would like Missandei to see you in all your glory, Jon,” she gasped as he playfully nipped at her chin, “By all means, my king.”

When he didn’t respond, she turned to see his face pulled into an unreadable frown.

Another knock at the door. She ignored Missandei and turned in Jon’s arms.

Hand sliding from his chest to his neck, thumb brushing his jawline, she searched his eyes, “What is it?”

“My king?” She could not hold his gaze for a heartbeat at the question, fearing that she may have revealed a piece of her heart maybe _he_ was not ready to reciprocate. That she might have made a fool of herself.

His arms tightened around her as she buried her face in the safety of his throat.

“Do you mean it?”

The moment she recovered, she picked her head up and affixed her eyes to his, whispering quietly but fiercely, “If you would have me, Jon.”

“For the Gods, Dany,” he breathed, claiming her mouth fervently, the force of his kiss leaving no doubt in her mind what his response to that was.

 

**Author's Note:**

> All I want for Christmas is for those who haven't said hi to me this year on comments to say hi to me now. LOL. <3


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